An ending
by a tipsy cat
Summary: Lara and Sam explore an old manor haunted by too many memories. Lara throws away the key. Lara x Sam, one-shot.


**An ending**

"Here, give me your hand."

"Seriously, we're trespassing on your own property? I knew I should have brought my camera."

"Nobody lives here, we're not trespassing. Come on."

Sam pulled herself up using thick wisteria vines and cavities in the wall's crumbling mortar, until she was high enough to grab Lara's hand. "Sure, there's no one now, but it's your home. I mean, if you want it to be."

Lara didn't answer and helped her up carefully until they were both sitting on top of the stone wall. They took in the view of the overgrown gardens all around the manor. Trees of all kinds, neglected alleys carpeted with weeds and wildflowers, ivy coiling around old statues, and the soft sound of summer rain falling on leaves.

Sam pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Was everything the way Lara remembered it, had time taken its toll on the place, on her memories?

Lara was looking at her with an amused frown. "A penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh sweetie, you're gonna have to do a lot better than a penny."

"Right, her majesty has standards. Let's see… how about a swim?"

"A swim? What are you talking about?"

"There's a pool on the other side of the gardens."

"You've got to be kidding me. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I don't carry bikinis and towels in my purse just in case, you know."

Lara shrugged absent-mindedly. Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh, what the hell. I can't say no to weird shit like that. Help me down?"

"Sure." Lara braced herself by holding on to the outer edge of the wall with one hand, and held Sam's wrist with the other until her friend gained her footing on the wall. "Don't expect sparkling Californian blue, though. It's an old pool. Of the unheated variety."

Sam made a face. "To be honest, I'm surprised there's even water in it. Are you sure it's not empty by now?"

"Pretty sure," Lara said as she made her way down the wall. "The water's running in closed circuit all over the estate to feed the fountains and the pool. With all this rain, the cistern never runs dry. Unless someone turned off the pump, but… let's check the nearest fountain."

They followed the central alley leading up to the manor, but Lara soon turned left to follow a smaller path under the trees.

"Didn't you use to have this butler guy taking care of everything?"

"Winston? Oh, he's no longer here. I think he checks up on the place whenever he's in the area, but that's about it. Here," Lara said, pulling a curtain of dripping vines away to reveal a wooden trellis. It was covered with climbing plants and little white flowers, forming a dark, fragrant corridor.

Sam raised her eyebrows at Lara. "You still know all those nooks and crannies, don't you? I feel like you're the white rabbit and if I follow you in there, the crazy caterpillar smoking his hookah will be waiting on the other side."

"I don't think you'd make a very good Alice."

"Because instead of asking him dumb questions I'd rather steal his hookah and start tripping with him? Come on, we both know Alice is probably tripping on something anyway. Her entire story couldn't get any whackier."

"The Cheshire Cat was always my favourite," Lara mused as they made their way beneath the bower, wet leaves brushing against their clothes.

"As in, creepy in an oddly compelling way? What does this say about you, lady Croft?"

"You tell me, Alice."

Sam put an arm around Lara's shoulders, shaking her head with a smile. They reached the end of the overarching trellis and stepped into a shaded glade, with a fountain singing with the trickle of clear water at its centre. Lightly bent over the fountain was the statue of a young woman holding a jar, from which the water sprang.

Lara took a few steps forward and raised her hand, running her fingers along the statue's arm. Sam discreetly took her phone out of her pocket to capture the moment, but Lara caught her movement. They exchanged a look. Sam knew Lara would let her take that picture in the end, so she didn't.

"I understand, you know. What this place means," she said, lowering her phone, "but I don't want you to have regrets. Maybe later you'll be glad to have a few pictures."

"Maybe, but…" Lara replied, gently taking the phone from Sam's hand and tucking it into her own pocket, "no photos today. Just old-fashioned memories. The pool's this way," she added, keeping Sam's hand in hers as they made their way out of the clearing.

They got to the back of the manor, which must have been exposed to the sun more often than the front, because its walls were mottled with moss, colonised by vines of all sorts, rambling roses... Those were everywhere, uncared for, forming thorny bushes and climbing their way up nearby trees.

The pool itself was hidden under a tarp sagging under the weight of too many rain puddles, too many dead leaves and crumpled petals. Sam helped Lara roll it out of the way, exposing the blinding reflection of the sky on the surface. It was one of those days, when you could feel the sun lurking right behind a uniform sea of white clouds, aggressively white. The pool was like the rest of the estate, stony and weathered, a faded mosaic decorating its sides and bottom. There were underwater stairs at one end. Some dirt had accumulated at the bottom, and a few leaves drifted on the surface slowly, but the water was as clear as the fountain's. Soon, the surface was dotted with light, incessant raindrops.

Sam kneeled at the edge and dipped her hand in the water. "God, Lara, I know today is hot by English standards, but this is _cold_."

Lara crossed her arms and flashed her a little smile that may or may not have been defiant. Sam returned it and, her eyes not leaving Lara's, proceeded to set her bag down, remove her shoes, then her shorts, and it was only when she took her top off that Lara averted her eyes to give her some privacy. Sam suppressed a smile. "I'm not going to swim in my underwear, you know. This is fine Italian lingerie, you have to handwash it and everything. You should take a look, maybe you'll learn something. I mean, your cotton panties are lovely in their own special way, but really, they don't do you justice. Besides, they say swimming naked is the best feeling the world," she added while setting her last piece of clothing aside. She shivered in the summer air.

Lara joined her on her side of the pool and picked up her clothes. "I'll put them under that tree so they don't get drenched. And yes," she remarked, holding up Sam's bra and studying it, "it _is _quite nice. Maybe I'll let you take me lingerie shopping one of those days."

"Oh, be still my heart. After all these years, my work is done," Sam sighed emphatically, letting herself fall into the water as if in a swoon. The shock of the cold took her breath away. She tensed up, but forced herself to relax until she hit the bottom of the pool. She pushed herself up to the surface, welcoming the lukewarm rain.

"Are you okay?"

"Currently dying of hypothermia, but give me a minute."

Sam began to swim around until her body got used to the water temperature. Lara had taken her shoes off and was sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet in the water, her satchel resting against her thigh. She had her glasses on and an open book in her hand.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Sam sighed, coming to a stop next to her. "Come on, it's really nice once you get used to it," she pleaded, leaning against the stone and resting her head on her arm.

Lara put her book away. "But I'm fine. I'm reading, you're swimming… it's nice. We're different, why can't you see that," she replied, running a hand through Sam's wet hair to get it out of her eyes.

"I do see that. And I get that you like it when I'm around doing whatever while you're reading, I'm like your comforting background noise or something. I know all that." Sam swam in front of Lara, putting her hands on her waist, letting water drip all over Lara's thighs and darken her tank top. "Come on. Old-fashioned memories, you said. You can read while I drive us back to London. Come swim with me. Please."

Lara narrowed her eyes, but ended up nodding. "Fine. You had me at 'old-fashioned'. And at 'please'."

She got up and walked back to the tree under which she had folded Sam's clothes to keep them dry. Sam watched her take her glasses off with practised ease, she watched her undress without false modesty. Most of their friends thought Lara was some kind of prude, but Sam knew better. Lara was in love with her work, it consumed her sometimes. That's why she could appear distant. Be distant, even. But she wasn't a prude, she wasn't afraid.

"Just dive in," Sam advised when she saw her friend hesitate, standing knee-deep on the highest underwater step. She held out her hand. "Come."

Lara complied, taking Sam's hand. Sam guided her down a couple of steps, then pulled her in without warning. "Sam don't you dar—"

Lara disappeared under the surface with a loud splash. When she resurfaced, she had goose bumps all over her skin.

"Oh my god, your _face_. Where's my camera when I need it," Sam lamented, giggling uncontrollably.

"Bloody hell, you're a menace," Lara exclaimed, but she was laughing too.

Sam rubbed her upper arms to warm her up. "Admit it, you like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life," she said in a low voice, doing her best Han Solo impression.

"She whispered seductively, naked and shivering in an ice-cold pool, with a dead leaf in her hair," Lara deadpanned, removing said leaf. They watched it float gently between them.

"Let's just swim, I'm freezing standing still like that."

"You call that swimming?" Lara teased, following her towards the deeper end of the pool.

"I call that doggy paddling, smartass," Sam retorted when Lara caught up with her in a few graceful strokes, evidently the better swimmer.

"Now I'm the one wishing we'd brought your camera along."

"Oh yeah?" Sam suddenly veered off course and climbed onto Lara's back, who sank below the surface for a second, but quickly adjusted to Sam's weight and kept going stoically. "_You call that swimming_? That's cute. Come on, my brave Bucephalus, let's conquer the world!" Sam proclaimed, pretending to pull Lara's ponytail as if she was riding a horse.

"Did you just call me Bucephalus? You've got to be kidding me," Lara panted, splashing Sam's face above her shoulder, to her friend's delight. "Do you actually know what happens to him?"

"Yeah, this bearded dude shoots an arrow in his throat and then the guy riding the elephant guts him with a spear. What?" she asked when Lara sighed audibly, "you didn't really think my historical references came from dusty books, did you? I just saw the Hollywood movie, the one where Alexander gays it up with his pretty friend Hephaestus."

"Hephaestion," Lara corrected, now completely out of breath. "Hephaistus is—"

"The blacksmith of the gods, married to Aphrodite, and he walks in on her while she's fucking her own brother. See? I'm just pushing your buttons. I do read books. And Wikipedia," she added, grabbing the edge of the pool to give Lara a rest.

Lara stopped swimming and put an arm on the stone to steady herself while Sam slid off her back. "I always knew you were a closeted intellectual."

"Oh sweetie, you just gave me about a million opportunities to turn this conversation around and show you the real meaning of sass. But I won't. It would be like taking your virginity, and I want your first time to be special in a good way, not painful and traumatizing. I'm still talking about sass, of course."

"Naturally," Lara replied with a smile, still trying to catch her breath.

"This is too easy, you don't even fight back," Sam sighed, affectionately tucking a few strands of hair behind Lara's ear. "Come here," she said, drawing her into her arms.

Lara returned the embrace. "Well, nobody's perfect. I have to say I come pretty damn close, though."

Sam chuckled. "That, you do. So, how does it feel?" she asked after a while, resting her head on Lara's shoulder. "To be back here, I mean."

"Like watching one of your favourite movies? You know it by heart, it's comforting and familiar, but it's not your story."

Sam tightened her arms around her. She could feel their breasts touching. "Really? So what's your story, Lara Croft?"

"I don't know. I really don't, Sam."

"… is that a good or a bad thing?"

Sam felt rather than heard Lara sigh. "Both, I suppose. Besides, much of it has yet to be written. Or filmed," she said pointedly, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek.

"You bet. I shall document every glorious and embarrassing moment of your rise to archaeological fame, and beyond I'm sure."

"No, you won't. You've got your own story to tell."

Sam frowned and lifted her head to look at her. "What's that supposed to mean? What if my story is your story?"

"No, no, no. I've got to make my mark somehow, and you've got to make yours, and maybe we'll do it together for a bit, but… I can't be your story. You know that."

"Well, that's depressing."

"And exciting. I, for one, can't wait to see what _your _story will be," Lara objected with a smile Sam couldn't help but return.

"You're kind of breaking my heart right now, you know," she said light-heartedly.

Lara, who still had an arm around her, stroked her shoulder for a while. "Shall we get out of the pool? It's really cold when we're not swimming around."

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, looking down. "Oh, my tits are like wrinkly little—"

"I don't want to know," Lara interrupted, pulling herself out of the water.

"Well good luck with that, I mean take a look at yours."

To her surprise, Lara actually did. "Oh dear, you're right," she said, crossing her arms on her chest.

They ran back to their clothes and got dressed under the trees. The fabric, wet with rain, dew and water from the pool, clung to their skin. Sam was tying her shoelaces when she saw Lara kneel down and rummage through nearby shrubs.

"Found something?"

"Yes, it's… do you know what that is?"

"Lara, I can't tell the difference between a pine and a weeping willow."

"This is lemongrass. You know, citronella, used for infusions? Whenever we were here and not on some expedition, my mother would come here after dinner and cut some from the patch we used to grow aromatic herbs, and she'd make us some citronella tea. Supposedly it helps digestion, but I think my parents just loved that little bedtime ritual. The patch must be completely overgrown by now."

"Wanna go check?"

"No, it's fine."

Sam didn't insist, picking up her bag instead. "So, is that why you always have potted plants? Because your mom was into gardening?"

"Probably, though all my plants keep dying on me. I don't have green fingers like her."

Lara picked up her own satchel and they started walking aimlessly, enjoying the rays of sun that were beginning to filter through the clouds.

"This garden smells so good," Sam remarked, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

"I know, it's even better now that it's uncared for. Everything's growing everywhere. You know, my mother used to place petals or fragrant herbs on my pillow every day, so that when I went to sleep, it felt like I was resting in a bed of flowers. She liked that sort of things. Beautiful things."

"Yeah, I've noticed you sometimes sprinkle your pillow with those traditional perfume bottles you get from that old store."

"You notice everything, don't you?"

"Well, it's my job to notice things. And film them whenever my best friend doesn't forbid me to bring my camera along. So what else did you mom do, besides gardening?"

"And besides the whole archaeology thing with my father? Let me think… you see that little greenhouse over there?"

Lara was pointing at some barely visible, ivy-covered shed. "Yeah?"

"It's not actually a greenhouse. My mother liked to paint in her free time, so she set it up as a workshop. I bet everything's still just the way she left it, probably buried under an unholy layer of dust. Winston felt it was wrong to move things around, so he kept cleaning the house, but not my mother's workshop."

"Is it all right with you if we go have a look? Unless it's locked."

Lara seemed to contemplate the idea. "It _is_ locked, but…" her voice trailed off as she opened one her satchel's back pockets, taking out an old, thick keyring, as well as Sam's previously confiscated phone. "Here. Go ahead, I don't mind, I'll just wait for you out here. It's the little brass key. But no pictures, please."

Sam nodded slowly and took the phone and the keys before making her way to the shed, scratching her legs against tangled rose bushes and thorny shrubs. She understood, in a way. She'd assumed Lara had forgotten the keys, or didn't have them anymore, but really, it made no difference. Not wanting to open the main gate, preferring to climb over the wall… to come as an intruder, rather than the owner, and leave without a trace.

She wrestled with the rusty lock for a while, but it finally gave in. The door rattled loudly when she pushed it open.

* * *

Lara, her back resting against a small eucalyptus tree, opened her eyes when she heard footsteps coming her way.

"So," she asked with a smile, catching the keys Sam tossed her way when she was close enough. "Was it worth it?"

"My knees are bleeding, which hasn't happened since I was like four and playing in the dirt, but yeah."

"Tell me about it?"

"Sure." They resumed their stroll around the manor. Sam was now sure Lara wouldn't even consider entering it. "So, you were right. Dust everywhere, like serious, hardcore mothballs. And cobwebs. But no spiders. I think there were quite a few flower bouquets decorating the place, but I'm not sure, all the plants are gone. So is everything in the many, many jars I found. They must have contained stuff like, I don't know, linseed oil, dyes and such. But you know the best part?"

"What?"

"The smell of turpentine is still so strong. It's like she was painting there yesterday."

Lara swallowed. "Did you see some of them? The paintings, I mean."

By then, they had circled back to the pool. It was raining again.

"Yeah, I did."

Lara nodded. "She wasn't a very good painter, from what I remember." She looked at Sam questioningly.

"Nope, not a very good painter," Sam confirmed. Lara rolled her eyes, but Sam could see she was suppressing a smile. "Interesting washed out colors, though, kind of like Morandi, you know, the Italian painter?"

"I don't think I've heard of him. I'll check it out."

"You'll like it, I think. Very zen."

"I'm sure," Lara whispered, toying with the keyring, her mind elsewhere. "Let's call it a day, okay? Let's just go," she said suddenly.

"Uh, sure, yeah. Let's go."

They started walking back to the main gate. When Sam realised Lara wasn't behind her anymore, she turned around, just in time to see her casually drop the keyring into the pool. Sam knew better than to say anything when Lara caught up with her, but she shot her a worried look.

Lara held her gaze. "To hell with that old place," she said with a playful shrug.

Sam stared at her blankly for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.


End file.
